Chapter Four: Honor March
Written by Ethan
Icy wind whipped across Torv’s face as he stood on the crest of a hill overlooking the haunting landscape that stretched out before him. The dense forest that had been his tribe’s hunting ground since his youth was gone, in its place a tundra of decayed tree husks that jutted skeletally from the frozen ground. The once-fertile region that gave his people roots, vegetables, and berries was now barren, with only a few hardy-yet-inedible plants still surviving in the cracked and inhospitable soil.
With eyes still locked on the stark landscape, Torv knelt down and pulled the head of his spear from the still-quivering body of a grotesque man at his feet. The man’s abnormally long face was locked in terror, with an occasional cough or labored breath sending crimson mist from his mouth and spurts of gore from his gut.
Next to him lay four more bodies: Three cut throats and a single smashed skull from the impact of Torv’s club - their reward for waking up before the barbarian was finished killing the others. The blood, bile, and brains that littered the area brought rare warmth to this cold, arid ground, but these bodies would bring Torv no closer to completing his impossible task. To fulfilling his Honor March. Regardless, these bodies had stood in the barbarian’s way, so he cut them down all the same. Torv reflected somberly on the circumstances that led him down this dismal path.
His clan - the Ulvson - referred to these outsiders as “boar faces” or simply “boars” due to their oddly-shaped heads and the massive brow ridges that covered their eyes. And though they didn’t have long, sharp tusks, they could often be seen rooting around the forest floor like wild pigs. At first, the Ulvson saw the boars as insignificant, ugly creatures that would surely fade into oblivion due to their weakness. They did not merit even a fraction of the attention that rival tribes had garnered in the past. But this triviality would not last long. Despite their complete inability to fight back, the boars were now the single greatest enemy of Torv’s clan.
In the past, the boars stuck to the far end of the forest, living amongst the rocks and cliffs of the mountain range that stretched off into the horizon. They were rarely seen unless a hunting party tracked game up to the foothills, and even then, the boars kept themselves hidden and never interacted with the Ulvson directly. But once the great forest began to wither and die, sightings of the boars became more frequent, and they were spotted much closer to the Ulvson village. The unwelcome visitors were summarily executed whenever they were discovered, but still, more and more boars continued to travel away from the mountains and through the forest towards the barbarian clan.
Torv’s people didn’t understand what the boar people were looking for, or why their numbers seemed to grow even though the trees and plants that provided food in this region were all withering away. There was little left to scavenge in the dying wood, and what animals still existed in the great forest had grown sickly and more aggressive. Torv’s clan had already begun to hunt and gather in the tundra to the south of their village as well, an even more desolate place that had little to offer outside of tiny rodents and a bland tuber they called po. It was a region the Ulvson relied on only during times of scarcity or rebirth in the wild and was only a stopgap for gathering resources, not a permanent solution. The clan understood that at times the world around them needed to heal, and while the brutality of the climate sometimes decimated entire species, it allowed for stronger, hardier plants and creatures to take their place.
The boar people represented a shift in this cycle. Their weakness and cowardness were unmatched by even the lowest of beasts; how could they possibly be thriving? The answer, it would seem, lay with their cryptic leader. The boars’ trespasses into the great forest marked the first attack of the Light Eater, the cause of the Black Night, in which all light around the mountains was sucked from the sky for hours on end. As these aberrations became more and more frequent, so too did the death of the woodlands and its inhabitants. Before long, the Ulvson were certain that the migration of the rival clan into their forest was a diabolical act: the boar people were destroying the great forest.
Sieg, the chieftain of the Ulvson, claimed that the only way to bring life back to their lands was to fertilize the ground with the blood of their enemies. This tended to be Sieg’s solution for most issues that presented themselves to the village. Regardless, the tribe’s very existence depended on the gifts of the great forest, and with the forest rapidly dying, this brutal option was certainly on the table.
The boar faces were weak and easy to track. They never put up much of a fight when caught, only ever attempting to scamper away or hide when a hunting party stumbled upon them. To the Ulvson, this was a cowardly and dishonorable way to meet one’s end, so they took little pride in slaughtering these meek creatures. Had a member of Torv’s tribe died in such a way, their entire family would suffer generations of shame, assuming anyone would ever mate with them again.
After countless days of hunting and slaughtering the boar faces, the forest did not grow back and the tribe began to fear that the end of the world was upon them. The chieftain, however, was firm on his theory, insisting that his people had simply not culled enough of the invaders. Sieg’s answer, as usual, was more bloodshed. But some in the Ulvson clan were becoming restless at the lack of results earned from these continual murders, and so a council meeting was arranged to discuss the cataclysmic scenario the tribe was facing. It was Yurl, Torv’s eldest brother, who had the temerity to suggest that perhaps the chieftain was wrong.
“The Light Eater has claimed dominion over these lands,” Yurl had proclaimed. “We must move on to preserve our clan. Our pride is not worth more than our lives.”
Torv watched as the chieftain’s face begin to boil at his brother’s words. The confidence with which Yurl spoke seemed to invigorate the longhouse full of battered souls, which only infuriated Sieg further.
“Brother, these are our ancestral lands,” Torv had interjected, trying to stop his well-meaning but stubborn sibling from continuing. “We must fight until our last breath to protect them.”
There was a bitter history between Sieg and the two brothers. Torv and Yurl’s father had been the previous chieftain before succumbing to illness. Yurl was to take on the role next, but Sieg, a much larger and stronger man, challenged him for leadership. The title of chieftain was rarely contested, and Yurl and Sieg had fought for hours in the most ferocious battle the clan had ever seen. Despite his smaller stature, Yurl did surprisingly well to meet his foe head-on, but Sieg eventually overtook him and Yurl was forced to concede.
Despite his loss, the Ulvson still viewed Yurl in a leadership capacity. Many wished he had become chieftain, as his experience and knowledge far surpassed that of the brutish Sieg. This division caused friction amongst the clan and factions began to take form. Then the first Black Night occurred and the boar people grew and spread and the great forest deteriorated, and the clan was forced to focus their efforts on the dire circumstances that had been thrust upon them.
“Our forefathers survived by following the herds,” Yurl had continued, walking confidently towards Sieg. “It was not until we discovered the great forest that our clan settled in one place. We were stronger back then; it's time we followed our true path once again.”
The group that had gathered for the meeting began to murmur amongst themselves, quickly building to a buzz of enthusiasm.
Sieg stared at the audacious man with both curiosity and anger. What Yurl had said was true: food supplies grew scarcer by the day. The time for simply hoping that the great forest would regrow had come to an end. They would need to act now or perish. Sieg’s solution, as always, was violence.
“I do not fear the light eater!” the chieftain growled. “And I will not allow cowards amongst our ranks!”
In a flash, the stone axe at Sieg’s side was in his hands and then swinging through the air, severing Yurl’s head from his shoulders before the man could mutter another slanderous word.
Torv stood motionless as he watched Yurl’s head land on the ground with a dull thud, his brother’s mouth frozen in place as if he was about to continue arguing his case. Instinctively, Torv reached for his club, but Sieg was surrounded by his inner circle, so attacking him now was suicide.
“Bring me Yurl’s kin,” Sieg demanded. “We must cleanse their sickness before it spreads.”
Among the Ulvson, cowardice and weakness were incurable diseases passed down from generation to generation. In their harsh world, the tribe became vulnerable if they allowed precious resources to be given to those who were considered a liability. This meant that anyone accused of such traits was left with two options: Prove themselves by completing a seemingly impossible feat, known as an Honor March, or be killed along with their children. Yurl was already dead, and now his son and daughter would be executed to cleanse his sullied line.
“Wait!” Torv called out, holding up his hand. “I will take the Honor March.”
“That is not the way,” Sieg snarled. “Only mothers and fathers can call for this. Do you share your brother’s treachery?”
“My brother was not given the chance to face judgment,” Torv said with fire in his eyes. “You can accept my wish, or accept my challenge for the title of chieftain.”
Sieg flinched at the ultimatum. Torv was one of the strongest in the tribe and would likely cripple or kill him in a fight. Sieg was still formidable, but his years as leader had left him softer and less resilient. It had been too many seasons since the chieftain had wielded a hunting spear, let alone a club for battle. The desperate murder of Yurl had left him vulnerable.
Torv had no aspirations to lead; he cared more for the survival of his kin than any personal notoriety. He had only issued the challenge because he knew that Sieg would be shaken by it, and would allow him to take the Honor March in his brother’s stead. Having lost his mate before they could bear children, Yurl’s son and daughter were as dear to Torv as if they had been his own. He would do whatever it took to preserve their lives.
“I will go to the far lands and I will destroy the Light Eater,” Torv had proclaimed, knowing this impossible task to be a worthy feat. “For that, my brother’s children shall live.”
Without waiting for a response, Torv had stomped from the crude longhouse where the council meetings were held, quickly packed his gear and bear fur coverings, and wandered off in the direction where the Light Eater fed from the sky.
Torv was now five days into his Honor March. As he stood above the four steaming boar corpses, the memories of the council meeting and his brother’s death left a foul taste in his mouth. He’d found this group by accident as he made his way towards the steep crags at the far end of the forest, snoring away noisily. The boars had been unarmed with few supplies aside from small bags of tree nuts and seeds. Everything in this area was barren and Torv couldn’t imagine where the boars could have scavenged the food. He added their rations to his own.
A soft whimper from within a hollowed-out tree trunk caught Torv’s ear, finally pulling his attention away from the recollection of events that had led him to the edge of these dead woods. He crept quietly over to the source of the sound, carefully peeking into a hole in the tree just wide enough to fit a tiny body.
Two tear-filled eyes glared back at Torv as the whimpers grew into a panicked cry. A boar child had apparently hidden inside the tree during Torv’s massacre - a single living witness to the Ulvson man’s brutality.
Brandishing his club, Torv decided that bringing a quick end to the boar child was the right thing to do. There was no way it could survive alone out in these frigid, desolate lands. He would be doing the miserable creature a favor. But as Torv went to reach inside the stump, the thought of killing it did not sit well with him. Despite the hardship and misery the boars had brought to these lands, this was still a child. There was no honor in murdering children.
“Do you speak?” Torv asked while motioning with his hands, making a gesture like words coming from his mouth. The panicked child didn’t respond. Torv knelt down and motioned again, this time getting a small nod from the child as it hugged the oversized cloak that covered its tiny body. But soon the boar child began to shake uncontrollably as the reality of the situation replaced the initial shock, and its hopelessness spilled from its mouth in the form of a piercing wail.
Wincing at the miserable sound, Torv got down onto his hands and knees and reached into the hole, grabbing the boar child firmly by its foot. The child tried to hold on to the wood to resist but Torv’s strength was far too great, and with one mighty pull it was extracted from the husk.
The child continued to spasm and cry wildly, what little survival instinct it had left kicking in now that it was captured. Torv placed his meaty hand over the child’s mouth and held it there firmly, squeezing slowly until it was clear that things would only get worse for the child if the screaming continued. The child seemed to understand and the fight drained from its tiny body.
Torv pulled out a length of rope from his bag and tied it around the boar child’s neck, leaving just enough slack that it could breathe but not so loose that the boar child could get free. When Torv finally reached the boars’ domain, there was a chance he would be able to kill them all en route to the Light Eater. But even though they were meek creatures, there was a real possibility the boars could swarm and overpower him with sheer numbers. He decided a better plan was to try and gain their trust by pretending he had rescued one of their children.
But even with a plan in place, Torv didn’t know exactly where the boar faces lived, only that their village was somewhere up in the mountains ahead. Scaling the steep cliffs was the quickest way to survey the area, but doing so with a child on a leash would be far more trouble than it was worth. Surely the boars knew a better way to traverse the crags and crevices that led to the peaks where the first Black Night occurred. Torv tugged on the rope sharply, calling the child’s attention.
“Listen,” he said with a glare. “You will lead me to your home. You will not speak of today or I will kill more of your people. Do you understand?”
The child nodded, tears rolling down their face.
“Where do you come from?” the man asked, gesturing again with his hands. The child looked up at him, still shaking, and pointed a finger in the direction of a clearing in the mountain range about a quarter day's pace from their present location.
“Good,” he said, tugging the rope as he continued on in that direction.
Torv had never walked this far into the forest after its death. The council advised that the clan stay far away from the decrepit landscape in the fear that whatever caused the destruction might somehow cling to people and be brought back to the village. It was shocking how quickly life was destroyed in the forest and the extent of the destruction. The branches of the trees had completely rotted away, leaving only blackened and hard pine needles at their base. Torv reached down to pick one up, tapping it with his index finger and realizing how easily it could pierce the skin.
The trunks of the trees still remained, though they looked more like jagged stones than once-living things, their bark frozen completely through by the cold. His clan had thought that maybe the dead wood was still salvageable, but the exterior of the trees simply shattered against the blows of their stone axes. It would surely take the intervention of the gods to bring the great forest back to life.
When Torv returned to the clan after his Honor March, he would have to insist on Yurl’s plan of action that had led to his death. Doing so would mean killing Sieg and his confidants, but that would need to be done anyway for the good of the clan. Even if Torv was able to kill the Light Eater, that would likely only halt the destruction of the forest, not revive it. They should leave these lifeless lands and follow the herds again, like their forefathers. Perhaps in a generation or two their people could return if new life in the great forest emerged.
After a while, Torv and the child came to a stream that ran through the forest, a tributary of the massive river that ran north along the mountain range. Surprisingly, the water here was shallow with a solid layer of ice coating its surface from shore to shore. The ground in the area seemed to be in better shape than the rest of the land around it. Small patches of moss were beginning to grow at the edge of the frozen water as well as a few sprouts that Torv recognized as berry bushes. Perhaps the forest was still fighting for life, but any comeback wouldn’t happen quickly enough to feed his people again anytime soon.
Peering further up the stream, Torv noticed an obstruction that resembled a beaver dam, though it was unnaturally sophisticated, as if built by man. He pulled the child along as he walked towards the dam, noticing that it divided the clear, pure waters from a dark green sludge that reeked of death and decay. Floating on top of the disgusting stew were the skeletons of fish and other animals, including a few unfortunate boar people that had fallen into the goop.
Looking closer at the dam, Torv noticed that a thin netting made from sinew was situated on either side, allowing water to slowly flow through. Two small piles of rocks were held in place by a crude wooden frame, creating a pocket where sand was piled up to the surface of the stream. Torv did not understand how it worked, but the dam appeared to be somehow cleaning the water. Did the boar people have the intelligence to create such a complicated device?
Torv looked down at the child and pointed to the dam and the child slowly shook its head, though it still would not speak. This structure was baffling, and Torv considered going back to the village to report his findings, but he knew that returning without completing his Honor March would end in the deaths of Yurl’s children and himself, regardless of how good his news was.
Torv and the child crossed at the clean portion of the stream and made their way towards the foothills of the mountains. Smoke rose in the distance; a clear sign that he was close to the boar people’s settlement. As they walked, the forest continued to show signs of improvement, with bits of grass poking up from the snow and saplings that were well on their way to becoming healthy trees. Torv found himself smiling for the first time in as long as he could remember, though he quickly reverted back to his usual stony expression when he spotted a small group of boar people up ahead.
The child instinctively yelled out and Torv tugged the rope harshly, causing the child to fall to the ground choking and sputtering. The boar people turned to them, terrified to see the hulking man whose tribe had systematically butchered their brethren. They began to scurry away frantically until one of the group, an older man with light gray hair and a ragged beard, saw the child and silently held up his hand. As he did, the others stopped at attention, quietly gathering around him again. Together, they inched towards Torv and the child as a single unit, cautious but curious at the arrival.
As they approached, Torv was surprised to see that the man did not possess the same exaggerated facial features as those around him. His face was round and soft, much different than the bony faces of the boars or even the hard, jutting structure of the Ulvson people. Despite having a slight frame and little muscle, the man walked with a confidence reserved in Torv’s clan for the greatest warriors.
“What business do you have here?” the man asked.
“You know my language?” said Torv, tightening his grip on the rope around the boy's neck.
“Yes, amongst others.” the man replied. “Why have you come here?”
“I found this child in the woods. I bring it back in goodwill.”
“Is that so?” the man said suspiciously. “Well, you’ve brought him. Be on your way now.”
“In my clan, a gift is met with a gift,” Torv said coldly, tugging the child back towards him.
The man narrowed his eyes and continued approaching Torv until he stood so close that the barbarian could smell a peculiar sweetness on his breath, like flowers and honey.
“I believe we’re even,” the man said curtly, motioning to a long row of funeral pyres heaped high with wood. A body wrapped in animal hide sat atop each pyre. “You may leave. Now.”
Torv’s brutish mind sputtered at the sheer insolence of this puny creature, standing before him giving orders, and rage began to boil beneath his skin. Instinctively, Torv reached out a meaty hand and grabbed the man by the throat, lifting him up to eye level. This was not the way Torv had intended to achieve his goals here, but diplomacy fades fast when the anger of an Ulvson is set alight.
“I’ve come for the Light Eater!” he barked. “You will take me to it or you will die!”
Despite the firm grip on his neck, the man’s expression changed little, only his eyes growing wider from the sudden but not-unexpected aggression of the Ulvson savage. This was when Torv noticed that the strange man had even stranger eyes: the cornea and sclera blended together in a shade of black darker than the dead of night. As Torv stared into them, the color seemed to swirl around inside, flashing with shades of purple, red, and blue like storms were brewing in his eye sockets.
Subtly, the man reached down into the pocket of his cloak and brought forth a small blue flower, then proceeded to steadily rub it against Torv’s forearm. As he did, the pollen of the plant sprinkled out and worked itself across the beastly man’s skin until it was covered with a thin paste.
Torv nearly roared in laughter at the impudence of the stranger, believing the man’s actions to be an affront to his manhood. Flowers were a symbol of femininity; this was his means of self-defense? Torv decided then and there that the man had to die, but when he tried to tighten his grip to choke the life from him, nothing happened.
Quickly, a stinging sensation sprung from his forearm and spread to his shoulder, followed by a deep numbness that resulted in him inadvertently releasing the man to the ground. A moment later, Torv’s arm hung limp and lifeless at his side.
Torv was no stranger to fighting while injured and quickly tossed the rope away and pulled his club from his back with his good arm. The child took the opportunity to run back to the boar people standing behind the round-faced man. Before Torv could swing a vicious blow, the man blew the remnants of the flower into the barbarian’s face and pollen sprinkled into his eyes. Torv dropped his club and blinked frantically and attempted to wipe the pollen away, but his vision was already starting to blur, then his hand began to cramp in the same way his arm had.
“Please calm yourself,” the man said, “I have plenty more where that came from and I would hate to demonstrate what happens when one ingests the flower.”
A sensation Torv had not known for his entire adult life quelled his aggression: he was helpless. Defeated, Torv stumbled to his knees, panting as he pawed at his eyes with a numb hand to try to clear his vision.
“Your clan is lucky the Gamle are peaceful beings,” the man said, circling Torv like wounded prey. “I suggested using the flowers on your people as soon as your massacres began, but the Gamle refused. They thought you’d come to your senses, eventually. I still have my doubts. Tell me again, why have you come here?”
“I’ve come to destroy the Light Eater,” Torv said through gritted teeth. “The bringer of the Black Night, the corrupter of the forest.”
“Oh, so that's what the Ulvson call it,” the man said with a chuckle. “Such drama with you savages. The Gamle refer to it as “the Savior,” which while more accurate is not without its own theatrics.”
“I do not understand,” Torv said with frustration. This man spoke to him like the elders spoke to the children of the clan, using complex words strung together to patronize instead of inform.
“Of course not,” the man laughed. “That would be too much to ask of your kind. Simply put, the ‘Light Eater’ as you call it has nothing to do with the destruction of your forest; quite the opposite actually. Though I must admit, the Black Nights are part of the ritual, so your pursuit is not completely misguided. Come, let me show you something.”
The man signaled to the Gamle huddled around him, motioning towards Torv. They scrambled over and helped the man to his feet, careful not to come in contact with the flower paste, and slowly walked him towards a rocky opening in the hillside.
A long, smooth corridor stretched out far in front of them, but the combination of low light and blurred vision meant Torv could barely make out anything besides the dull glow of embers situated along the walls. At the end of the hall, Torv could see the light swell in a bright opening, stretching far wider than the corridor they’d just walked through. The light coming from this area was not at all like the light from the embers, but instead something much closer to natural sunlight.
As they approached, Torv was forced to close his eyes completely as the intensity of the light made them water uncontrollably. Instinctively, he attempted to wipe at them again, but his arms were numb and leaden.
“Oh, so sorry,” the man said. “Let me help you.” He produced a waterskin from his bag and began splashing the contents onto Torv’s face.
The liquid burned horribly, causing Torv to scream out in pain. But after a short time, the pain subsided and Torv could see again, though when his vision cleared, he was sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him.
They had arrived in an immense cavern with a natural opening in the ceiling that let the sunlight through - a particular oddity considering the sky was cloudy that day. Upon closer inspection, Torv realized that the light was not actually coming from the sun but from a flat, reflective object suspended above them from four cords stretched across the opening. It was like seeing the sky reflected on the surface of a lake on a still day, though this sun burned brighter and redder than normal.
The ground was blanketed in thick grass, quite different from the patchy brownish-green clumps that covered the forest floor. Springing from the grass were a wide variety of both familiar and foreign trees and plants, many of which bore fruit and nuts. A cadre of boar people tended to the plants, harvesting the edible parts and separating seeds into small bags, like the ones his latest victims had been carrying.
Torv noticed a family of deer nibbling at some leaves in the corner of the cavern and a group of actual wild pigs digging around beneath a thick bush. Around him, he could hear the subtle buzz of insects and the chirping of birds, making it apparent that the cavern was its own separate ecosystem from the bleakness of the world outside. This place was like a miniaturized version of the great forest before its destruction, expertly cultivated as if grown by the gods.
“What is this?” asked Torv as he stared in disbelief.
“This is progress,” the man answered with a grin, dark eyes flashing in satisfaction. “What you see here is the work of numerous shamans, witches, and wise men, separated by unimaginable distances yet functioning together all the same.”
“I do not understand,” said Torv, searching the area for the witches and shamans the man was referring to. “All I see are boars.”
“They are not here, you simple beast,” the man chuckled. “They exist across multiple worlds, interconnected by special doorways that a few gifted individuals such as myself can operate. It allows us to travel to faraway places, to learn and to improve ourselves and those around us.”
“Different worlds than this?” Torv muttered, unable to comprehend what the man was saying. The stranger was beginning to sound mad. It reminded him of an elder in his clan named Magus who claimed the gods had instructed him to usurp Torv’s father as chieftain. Magus made this claim while wearing nothing but the recently-severed head of a goat atop his own.
“Of course you believe this frozen plane is all there is,” said the man. “It’s all you’ve ever known. But that is simply not the case. There are countless worlds beyond your own, each unique, yet similar in their desire to thrive.”
“This world was thriving until the boars left their caves and destroyed the great forest,” Torv said angrily. “We had no need for mystics.”
“Neither the Gamle nor myself had anything to do with the destruction of your forest. Sometimes, powerful, unpleasant creatures find a way to travel between the planes as well. One such creature from another world died on the mountain, and when its diseased body fell into the river it became poisoned, and over time, that poisoned the forest. When we discovered this, we sent out a group to warn your people, but they were killed, as were the groups sent after. Thus, we decided to try and cleanse the forest ourselves, but again your people attacked us.”
“So you admit your kind is at fault?” Torv said, growing frustrated by the exchange. “You let through the disease that killed the great forest.”
“While there are other travelers like myself,” he said brusquely, “we are not necessarily allied, nor motivated in the same ways. And try as we might to keep the doorways closed, sometimes they blow open anyway. We strive for progress, but right now, we must focus on survival. Our scouts have warned us that another group of your clansmen are making their way here. You must have been followed.”
“Impossible!” Torv roared. “My clan would never dare interrupt an Honor March.”
“Honor is the first trait to go when met with extinction,” the man replied solemnly. “I’ve seen it many times before.”
Torv didn’t know whether to trust the stormy-eyed stranger or not. His insane tales seemed impossible, yet here he stood in a place that defied all logic. Sieg, on the other hand, was like a wounded animal, lashing out at any and all that stood in his way. His rule was antithetical to the proud history of the Ulvson. Yurl’s murder should have been met with quick justice by the others in the clan, but they failed to act. Perhaps the forest wasn’t the only thing rotting from the inside out.
Were the others in his clan coming for him now? For all Torv knew, his family was already dead. There was nothing stopping Sieg from going through with it now that he was on his March. The idea tore at his psyche, and Torv refused to believe it was true. His life was built upon a strict set of rules that simplified the decisions he made and guided his actions. To step away now, in such desperate times, was enough to shatter even the strongest warrior.
“I will not turn against my people,” Torv said resolutely. “My honor stays firm.”
“I didn’t expect you would,” said the man. “I’m more than capable of dealing with this threat myself.”
With that, the man signaled the Gamle again and a group of six of them crowded around Torv. There was still nothing he could do to fight back, so the boars ushered him further into the cavern and through another opening into the base of the mountain. Before long, they found themselves in front of a room with a hefty wooden door. The Gamle pushed Torv inside and closed the door tightly behind him, skittering down the hall until the echo of their footsteps could no longer be heard.
Torv turned slowly, realizing that he was not alone in the room. Sitting in the back corner were two much-smaller people voraciously consuming a platter of food. They wore fur coverings on their shoulders and one had a garment made of thick, green leaves around his waist and animal hide wrapped around one of his hands. The young man almost choked on his meal when he turned and noticed the hulking beast now standing in the room with him. The woman next to him stood up and hurriedly walked over to Torv, speaking loudly and frantically in a language he did not understand.
She continued, pointing to herself and the young man, then making a circle shape with her hands, pointing at their garments, and motioning wildly as if her arms were the mouth of some great beast. After a while she gave up, seeing that Torv clearly did not understand. She sat down with a frustrated expression and continued her meal.
“Another savage,” Kaia said as she sat down on the floor next to Ja. “All this and we’re back in a prison with another savage.”
“He’s wearing clothes,” Ja replied. “Maybe he’s different. I hope he’s different; he is far bigger than the men in the compound. I don’t think we can defend ourselves against him.”
“There is something wrong with his arms,” Kaia pointed out. “They must have used the blue flowers on him, too.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ja sighed. “It looks like it’s our fate to be sacrifices.”
Kaia put her hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort her new friend despite knowing he was probably right.
As they sat, a loud rumbling became audible in the distance, followed by excited yelling and the sound of a single pair of footsteps running down the hall. The large man sat upright, attempting to flex the fingers of a hand that was steadily coming back to life. He looked over to the other two and spoke to them in a language they had never heard. His expression was tense and focused, like a hunter sensing danger in the jungle. He patted on his chest firmly and then motioned with his head towards the door, repeating the action until they understood what he meant.
“I think someone has come for him,” Kaia said.
“Good, maybe they’re here to get him out,” Ja replied enthusiastically. “Maybe they can help us.”
Kaia looked at the anxious expression on the hulking man’s face.
“No,” she said flatly. “I don’t think they’re coming to help.”
FATE INDEX:
1. Nothing happens when something is supposed to happen
2. Character loses one of their senses
3. Protagonist finds a source of healing/resurrection
4. Protagonist’s identity is thrown into question
5. People begin to question their belief system
6. Charismatic megafauna
7. A great artifact of the past is found, calling to a new owner
8. Social faux pas has serious consequences
9. The inevitable end is actually a rebirth
10. A member of the community who was heavily relied upon disappears
11. Discovery of higher technology
12. Monotony is broken
13. Character has portentous visions of a world they don’t recognize
14. Body swap
15. Too many cooks in the kitchen
16. Bodily functions begin to cause eerie physical changes
17. A tenuous bond is formed
18. Life is too good
19. A dam breaks creating massive flooding
20. A new adventure begins
Outcomes Used:
17. A tenuous bond is formed
20. A new adventure begins
Added outcomes:
Something a character thought was important turns out to be totally unnecessary
(thanks to Jay)
Cat eat food
(thanks to Milo)
